Christmas Disasters, Christmas Miracles: be mine
by brickroad16
Summary: Part of Mikki13's Prepare to Be Heart Warmed fic exchange. Written for songandsilence. An unexpected snowstorm teaches Chuck and Sarah that Christmas isn't about being perfect. Happy holidays!


Okay, well, for starters, a disclaimer: I don't own "Chuck." The only thing I hope to own is the S2 DVD set in a few weeks.

A/N: This fic is part of a holiday challenge/fic fest, **Mikki13**'s "Prepare to Be Heartwarmed" Fic Exchange. I wanted the title to be _Christmas Disasters, Christmas Miracles (be mine)_, but the site didn't like that formatting, lol.

For: **songandsilence **(Merry Christmas!)  
Stipulations: Ellie throwing a Christmas party, fluff, and snow.  
No: slash, overly sappy Chuck.  
Pairing: Chuck/Sarah  
Prompt: a Christmas snowstorm takes Burbank by surprise!

I can't seem to stay away from song lyrics in fics, so these are from an unreleased Ingrid Michaelson song. If you'd like to hear it, there's a video up on youtube (under 'Be My Disaster').

Lastly, I'd like to wish everyone a happy holiday season! :)

_

* * *

We'll both fall down together,  
_'_Cause I'll never let go of your hand.  
Be my disaster.  
Be mine._  
– _Ingrid Michaelson_

_

* * *

_

Even in the warm yogurt shop, there's a chill in the air that Sarah can't quite shake. She turns her back to the window, turns away from the darkening skyline, but knows the misgiving within her chest has nothing to do with the stormy weather outside.

It has everything to do with the man who's currently walking across the plaza and heading straight for this shop. It has everything to do with the holiday right around the corner, and how important it is to his family – how important it's become to _her_.

Forcing that feeling down, she busies herself by grabbing a rag and wiping down the counter.

She looks up as the bell above the door of the Orange Orange jingles, and a reluctant smile comes to her face as she watches Chuck stroll up to the counter.

"Hey," he says, leaning a hip against the countertop and crossing his arms, a matching smile tugging at his lips.

His smile warms the air, warms the doubt in her heart.

"Hey, yourself," she replies. She sets down the towel in her hand and rests her forearms on the counter. "What can I get for you?"

Chuck looks up at the menu and narrows his eyes in scrutiny. "Hmm . . . let's go with pomegranate today."

"Very good choice," she nods, turning around to get the frozen yogurt.

Her back is still turned when he says, "So I was thinking . . . uh . . ."

She hands him the bowl of yogurt and quirks an eyebrow at him in expectation. "Yes?"

He stands up straight and takes a deep breath. "I know we don't exactly have the best track record concerning Christmas," he says quickly, gesticulating with his hands and not quite meeting her eye.

Sarah smirks, knowing exactly how true that statement is. Their previous two Christmases have been disasters, to say the least. Bryce's return had been too fresh for either of their liking during their first year together, and Chuck had been distant and jumpy last year thanks to the harrowing conclusion to an overly-dramatic hostage situation. This year, though, he's apparently determined to make the holiday season different. And the heartfelt look on his face makes her want to do anything she can to help him make that happen.

Chuck takes a bite of yogurt before continuing, "But um, I was hoping that you'd still consider spending Christmas with us. Ellie and Devon are having a party on Christmas Eve, as usual, and I'd really love it if you came." He stops, his shoulders slumping as he lets out his breath, and looks at her eagerly.

Sarah grabs a plastic spoon from the nearby container, leans forward, and steals a bite of his yogurt. Swallowing, she says, "You know how much I love Ellie's parties."

She's rewarded with one of the dazzling, toothy grins she loves so much, and suddenly, she can't remember why she was so worried five minutes ago.

"Great," he replies. "So, when we sneak away from the party, do you want to have a _Legend of the Seeker_ marathon or a _Merlin_ one? Because I want to be ready."

Laughing, Sarah crosses her arms and rolls her eyes. "We can't sneak away," she protests. "Not from one of Ellie's parties. She'd murder us, or at the very least try to talk us into submission." He doesn't say anything, just smiles even wider, and she breaks down, tossing the discarded towel at him. "_Merlin_," she concedes. "Now get out of here before you get me to agree to not even make an appearance."

* * *

Sarah's only halfway across the courtyard when Chuck comes racing out the door of the apartment, keys dangling from his fingers, a petrified look on his face. He slams the door behind him, leaning his back against it and breathing deeply, but she's close enough now to get a whiff of the stench of burning pastries hanging in the air.

"Chuck?" she queries, lifting a brow at his odd behavior.

"Oh, hey, Sarah," he replies with feigned nonchalance. "You probably shouldn't go in there if you value your life."

She smirks. "What'd you do?"

"This time, it wasn't my fault. I swear!"

"Uh-huh," she nods, not quite sure if she believes him. "So what's going on then?"

Standing up straight, Chuck walks across the square to meet her, takes a deep breath, and spews, "Ellie can't find half the Christmas lights (because Morgan 'borrowed' them back in July for who knows what, but she doesn't need to know that), and now she's so stressed with decorating and throwing this stupid party and buying gifts and how it might rain that she's burned her second batch of cookies. So she's kind of on a rampage. You know how she gets."

"Yeah," Sarah nods. "Is she going to be okay?"

"Of course," he reassures her. "I think she just needs some space to calm down, and she needs me to run and get some last-minute supplies anyway. Hopefully by the time we get back, she'll have run out of things to throw at me and Devon," he says with a chuckle as he begins to walk out of the courtyard.

Sarah watches him for a moment, a contemplative smile lingering on her lips, before strolling a few quick paces to catch up with him. She takes his hand in hers as they escape the scene, and the only thought in her mind is, _It's going to be one hell of an interesting Christmas_.

* * *

A mug of Devon's eggnog in her hand, Sarah stands at the window and watches the clouds move across the darkening sky. Someone slides a hand onto her shoulder and gives it a warm squeeze, and she looks up into Chuck's smiling eyes.

"Hey," he says quietly. "Everything all right?"

"Yeah," she smiles, sliding an arm around his waist and pulling him close. "It looks like rain, though."

He takes a sip of her proffered drink before saying, "Better not let Ellie know. She's already worried people will want to leave early because it's just threatening to storm. If it _actually_ storms, though . . ." Shaking his head, he trails off and leaves her to guess the intensity of Ellie's ire and disappointment.

They rejoin the crowd, but, not even an hour later, the clouds open up and it begins not just to storm but to _snow_. Alarmed, the guests watch the sky in awe for a few minutes before realizing the gravity of the situation. They bundle up in their coats and shuffle out in pairs and threes, giving their excuses to their disheartened hosts.

Chuck and Sarah retreat to the couch to watch it all – the parade of departing guests, slightly panicked at the prospect of snow – _snow!_ – in Los Angeles. When over half the guests have gone in the space of just twenty minutes, Ellie disappears into her room and leaves Devon to bid everyone goodbye. In half-an-hour, though, they're all gone, and Devon follows his wife into their bedroom to cheer her up.

They sit for a few minutes in silence, watching the snowfall through the window. Sarah looks around the room at the abandoned Christmas decorations. Even the scent of gingerbread still hangs heavily, almost forlornly, in the air.

Turning to Chuck, she pokes him in the thigh. "Do you think we should do something?"

He frowns. "She seems really upset, doesn't she?" Sarah nods, breaking their gaze, and Chuck sighs. "All right," he says, patting his thighs and standing up, "I'll go talk to her."

But before he can make it into the hallway, Devon and Ellie are already coming out. Awesome has a loving arm around his wife's shoulders, and, even from her perch on the couch, Sarah can tell that Ellie's been crying.

"You all right, El?" Chuck asks softly.

Sniffling, she nods. "Yeah, I just really wanted this party to go well."

Devon, smiling, places a kiss on her temple. "You always do, babe." He steers her toward the couch and sits her down next to Sarah. "Here, why don't you just relax while I make some hot chocolate?"

Ellie nods again.

Chuck, watching the scene with his arms crossed, snags Devon on his way to the kitchen to suggest, "You may want to add some Bailey's to that hot chocolate."

Devon glances at his wife knowingly. "Sure thing, bro."

On the couch, Sarah watches Ellie awkwardly for a moment before saying, "It's not all bad, Ellie. After all, it'll be a white Christmas."

Ellie manages a smile. "Yeah, you're right. I haven't had one of those since back in Connecticut. Right, Chuck?"

Chuck, smiling, collapses into an armchair. "Yeah, I don't even remember the last time I saw snow," he laughs quietly.

Devon comes back into the living room with a few mugs of hot chocolate. He hands them out and sits down next to his wife. "Hey, I've got an idea. Let's all share a story about our favorite Christmas."

"Devon," Ellie says, leaning against his shoulder, "thanks, but you don't have to do this to make me feel better."

"No," Chuck jumps in, "I like it. It'll help remind us why we should be thankful."

Sarah smiles and moves over to Chuck, sitting on the arm of his chair. He slides an arm around her waist, fiddles with the hem of her shirt.

"Okay, I'll go first then," Devon grins. "My favorite Christmas was when I was six, because that's when I got my first doctor kit. I don't think I even opened the rest of my gifts. I just spent the rest of the day pretending to give my dog open-heart surgery."

"Somehow that's not at all surprising, Devon," Chuck laughs.

Ellie gives her husband a squeeze and a kiss on the cheek. "I guess mine would be my first Christmas home from college. The first night I got home, Chuck and I watched _Back to the Future: Part III_."

Chuck nods, "I remember that."

Smiling, she continues, "We just spent the evening watching a movie and eating popcorn, and I realized how nice it was to just relax and spend some time with my little brother around the holidays."

"Thanks, sis," he says, lifting his glass to her.

Sarah takes his free hand in hers and gives it a squeeze. It's not as if she needs reminders of his kind nature, but she enjoys hearing stories about it just the same.

Chuck clears his throat. "I suppose it's my turn. Um . . .well, my favorite Christmas would be the first Christmas after Mom left." Ellie looks at him curiously, but he gives her a crooked smile and says, "I remember waking up on Christmas Eve morning to the smell of cookies baking – sugar and gingerbread – and it was like everything was okay again. The world was still turning."

Realization dawns on Ellie's face. "That's why you always want me to bake cookies at Christmas," she says quietly.

He nods, and Sarah latches their fingers together without a word.

Chuck looks up at her, a sad smile stretched across his lips. "Your turn."

She sighs. However much of a disaster this Christmas is turning out to be, Sarah knows instantly that it's her favorite. Even so, she can't admit to that in front of Ellie, in front of Devon, _especially_ in front of Chuck. So she decides to go with a childhood memory, one she thinks of every so often when she's having a particularly rough day.

"Well," she begins, "my favorite Christmas was when I was nine. My mom had just died, so it was my dad, my sister, and me. We moved a lot, and my dad was too busy trying to keep us together to actually get us any gifts, so he took us to the park on Christmas morning." She takes a breath, losing herself in the recollection. "I remember thinking I was in a fairytale. The trees were covered in snow, and there was this huge ice skating rink. My sister and I spent the entire day skating, drinking hot chocolate, and making snow angels. I felt like a princess. . . . _We_ felt like a family." She swallows. "It was the best gift my dad could give us that year."

Sarah looks up to see Devon and Ellie regarding her in awe. Devon shifts slightly on the sofa cushions, looking slightly uncomfortable.

"Oh, sweetie," Ellie says, leaning forward to place a hand on her arm. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Sarah replies, offering her a smile. "I've got you guys now."

She turns when she feels Chuck tug on her sleeve. Quirking a smile at her, he pulls her gently down onto his lap. She snakes an arm around his neck and touches her forehead to his.

"You'll _always_ have us," he murmurs, stroking her hair.

Sliding a hand to his face, stroking her thumb across his cheekbone, Sarah loses herself in him, just because it's _Christmas_ and she deserves this one happiness. Three years ago, she wouldn't have believed it, wouldn't have believed that a woman like her could deserve a life like this, but she does now.

She does, and it's all because of him.

She brushes a hesitant kiss across his lips. "And I will always be grateful."

Chuck smiles, looks into her eyes, and pulls her down for another, proper kiss. Sarah settles her head against his shoulder, finally realizing that Ellie and Devon are averting their eyes politely.

Chuck clears his throat and asks, "Anyone up for some TV? I've got the whole first season of _Merlin_ ready to go!"

Ellie laughs. "Why not? This is already one of the weirdest Christmases we've experienced. Why _not_ add a British show that has absolutely nothing to do with the holiday to the mix?"

"All right, then," Chuck grins. "I'll go cue it up."

"Hold on, bro," Devon says, rising from the couch. "I'll get it. You look pretty comfortable there."

Sarah chuckles as she and Chuck accept Awesome's proffered fist bumps before the four of them settle in to watch some TV, drink some hot chocolate, and enjoy each other's company.

* * *

"Bail!"

Sarah lets out a delighted laugh as she topples out of the sled and into the snow, and Chuck lands beside her on his back. They've scraped together their warmest clothing, found a few knit hats and a couple pairs of gloves in the Bartowski basement along with an old wooden sled, all to spend Christmas morning in the park.

They've been sled riding for half-an-hour now, and it's the most fun Sarah's had since just last week, when Chuck and Morgan had dragged her to the _Avatar_ premiere. She smiles widely. The fun moments of her life come around much more frequently these days, a fact she blames on the presence of one Chuck Bartowski.

She turns her head to look at the man in question. He's currently lying on his back, breathing heavily and staring up at the snow still falling. He opens his mouth to catch the tumbling flakes, closes his eyes as they melt on his tongue.

"Chuck," she murmurs quietly.

"Hmm?"

Sarah turns her face back to the sky with a sigh. "This is nice."

Even through her gloves, she feels his hand slip into hers.

"Yeah," he agrees, "it is."

* * *

Sarah leans her forearms on the porch railing and takes a deep breath, breathing in the cool wintry air. The storm has abated, but snow – lying six inches deep – still coats the ground.

"What are you doing out here?"

She turns to find Chuck in the doorway, an expression of curiosity on his face. "Just thinking," she replies with a soft smile.

"Not about anything too serious, I hope," he teases as he walks toward her. "It _is_ Christmas, after all."

He stands close, but not too close, and she takes the extra initiative by snaking an arm around his waist. "Nope," she answers, "Just about how nice it is to finally have a white Christmas."

"Yeah, how about that?" he asks rhetorically, resting his chin on the top of her head. He retrieves three small packages from his pockets and holds them out to her. "Oh, hey, I forgot to give these to you this morning."

"Chuck," she chastises gently, "you've already gotten me gifts."

Smiling broadly, he shrugs. "I know, but these were a little something extra I picked up last-minute. No big deal."

She accepts the first gift with a raised eyebrow. "Still . . ."

"Just open it."

She does, carefully peeling back the paper to reveal a small round Buy More ornament. Chuckling, she holds it up in the soft winter moonlight. "It's . . . pretty," she decides, because, strangely enough, it is, with the green and yellow logo glinting in the light and the glass and moonlight lending a fascinating ethereal quality to it.

"I'm glad you like it. Next one."

This one's a similar size and weight, and she opens it to find another ornament, this time shaped like a gun.

"Wow," she laughs. "Where'd you find this one?"

"I have my ways," he grins. "Last one."

He holds the first two ornaments while she opens the last. This one is a glittering pair of ice skates.

"Chuck," she breathes, trying to ignore that bizarrely pleasant sensation of her stomach doing flip-flops.

He leans in close, one hand on her hip, and explains, "One for each Christmas we've spent together."

"The Buy More for the holiday party two years ago," she smiles, "and the gun for?"

"The hostage situation last year. Not ideal, I know," he chuckles, "but still, it's how we spent Christmas."

"And the ice skates for the stories last night?"

"Yep. Do you like them?"

Sarah smiles. "I love them."

Chuck's face lights up when he returns the smile. "I thought, maybe, you could start a collection or something. But you know, it was just a thought. Kind of impractical, I guess," he trails off, averting his eyes and blushing slightly.

Impractical, yes. She has no idea how much time she has left with this man, and any sort of collection in her line of work is neither smart nor sensible.

But that doesn't mean she doesn't want to.

Placing a hand on his chest, she looks up at him and says softly, "I think that is a _very_ good idea. But you have to promise me something?"

He tilts his head to the side. "What's that?"

"That you'll help me to keep the collection going every year."

"My lady," he tells her gallantly, "_that_ I do solemnly avow."

"Good," she laughs.

And just because he looks so handsome in the moonlight, with the chill of the night in his cheeks and the cheer of the season in his eyes – and, she reminds herself, just because it's Christmas and she _deserves_ it – she leans up on her tiptoes to kiss him, exceedingly glad when he responds by wrapping an arm around her waist and deepening the kiss.

* * *

Sarah can't hide her smile as Chuck walks into her hotel room, armed with a laptop, a handful of DVDs, and a bag of mysterious contents.

"Hey," she greets, sliding a bookmark between pages and setting her book down on the bedside table.

Chuck, returning the smile, plops down on the bed beside her. "Hey, yourself."

She pokes through the plastic bag to find a variety of snacks from chips and popcorn to candy and cookies. "I see you've brought supplies," she teases.

"Please," he scoffs playfully at her. "Day-after-Christmas marathons are my thing. I know what I'm doing."

Sarah lets out a lilting laugh as she watches him set up his laptop. "I bet you do."

He sticks his tongue out at her. "I think I hear a hint of disdain in your tone. Would you be implying that my childhood days watching 'Star Trek' marathons were not well-spent?"

"No disdain," she assures him laughingly. "I have nothing but respect for the extent of your nerdiness."

Chuck opens his mouth to reply in jest, but stops when he catches sight of the miniature Christmas tree she's set up in the corner. It's strung with white lights and boasts a mere three ornaments for decoration.

He looks at her in wonder. "Sarah Walker, you decorated! You _never_ decorate."

She swallows and shrugs nonchalantly. "What can I say? I've suddenly been struck by the holiday spirit." Chuck's grin grows as he gazes at her, and she slides her hand on top of his. "I lied yesterday, you know," she tells him quietly.

He settles next to her, resting his back against the headboard. "About what?"

"I told you the story of my favorite Christmas. But it wasn't my _favorite_."

Chuck twines their fingers together, his thumb massaging circles over her knuckle. "What _was_ your favorite, then?"

She tilts her head toward him and murmurs, "This one."

Chuck's so close now that she can smell the peppermint on his breath, taste it when he leans forward to capture her lips. She tangles a hand in his hair as she pulls him closer.

When they break apart briefly, she whispers against his lips, "Always this one."

* * *

A/N 2: Why, yes, I _did_ in fact need to include that mostly-unnecessary reference to my current favorite Arthurian-themed show. :P (And bonus shout-out to everyone else rockin' the _LotS_ love lately! Lol.)


End file.
